


Put your pride aside

by Anderseeds



Series: Hellsing works [2]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Millenium, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced abuse from Alucard's prior masters, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Overstimulation, Referenced Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 14:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anderseeds/pseuds/Anderseeds
Summary: “You like being pinned against walls by vampires, priest?” He lowered his eyelids, looking at Anderson's rapidly warming face through his eyelashes. He was radiating a wonderful heat, and his words seemed to be spurring on Anderson’s arousal. “Or is it just me?” Anderson shuddered against him and he exhaled a needless breath against Anderson's lips. “Does the idea of a beast that belongs in the bowels of hell defrocking you excite you, Alexander Anderson?”It turns out Anderson's into dirty talk. Alucard, predictably, uses that to his advantage.





	Put your pride aside

It had been a century since Alucard had last had a fledgling, and the first time he'd had one who retained their free will. Now he remembered just why he favoured spoiling their autonomy.

Seras Victoria, while a delight in many ways, could irritate him like nothing else. It seemed every day now that she was whimpering at the prospect of obliging her new instincts - instincts that Alucard had charitably bestowed upon her when he could have left her to bleed out, and that was frustrating enough on its own, but they would go out on jobs and she would whinge at the necessity of killing the occasional human, as though they should give humans concessions simply because of their own strength. She didn’t understand war, nor death, nor what it was to be a vampire, and her faults were all the worse for the fact he made her. The First Vampire with a fledgling that refused to drink blood and wailed when made to rest in her coffin was ridiculous. Embarrassing. Initially it provided entertainment to have such an errant fledgling, but her refusal to accept her nature had rapidly turned into a nuisance, particularly as his Master wasn’t pleased with her progress either and impressed upon him the importance of getting his fledgling acclimated to her role at Hellsing.

To be sent out on his own for the first time in several months came as a welcome reprieve. The fact that it was a simple job, hardly befitting for a creature of his prowess, wasn’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he’d been in the position of beggar for some years now. He took what freedoms were given to him and only asked for an inch or two now and then; Abraham Van Helsing had been thorough in ensuring his pet vampire would obey. Not without reluctance, but he obeyed all the same, and he was beyond being mad or indignant about it. He liked to live in the moment, so to speak.

The work was just as droll as he had expected. A couple of shots popped off dealt with any ghouls meandering around the entrance to the building he was to unburden of its intruders. He stepped over their fallen bodies, slipping inside and making toward the stairs, because those responsible would undoubtedly be up there. These sorts generally sought higher ground once they were comfortably set up.

The second floor, to his surprise and pleasure, was absent of ghouls. Of live ones, anyway, and the bayonets he found embedded in their skulls left no question as to why that was. His smile grew fervent as he stepped deeper into the building, tilting his head this way and that in search of the telltale thwack of blades being embedded into wood. His journey ended when he came upon the scent of freshly spilt blood. He turned to peer into a nearby room, finding Anderson hunched over a body quivering in its death thrall. And no wonder, since he’d impaled it on a bayonet, struck it straight through the heart.

“Enjoying yourself, priest?”

Anderson didn’t rise right away. Evidently he had known Alucard was there prior to him entering the room. He finished off his quarry with a jerk of his bayonet, ravaging its heart and sending it spilling to the floor with a choking, warbling cry. It was dead by the time he raised his eyes to Alucard.

“What are you doing here, vampire?”

“The same as you: my job,” said Alucard smoothly.

“There’s no job here,” said Anderson as he stood, flicking blood and viscus off his bayonet. “Not for you, anyway. I still see one more vampire on the premises.” A smile curled his lips and Alucard gave a barking laugh.

Ah, Father Anderson. Ever reliable in his reactions. There were no vampires for Alucard to dispatch here, evidently, but fighting Anderson would be much more satisfying. The man always whet his appetite for conflict in a way no one else could.

He curled his hand around the cool metal of his Casull, finger resting on the trigger. “Come on, then! Come forth, Anderson!”

He spread his arms in invitation, and Anderson was fast to take him up on it. He surged for him with his bayonets angled to strike him through the torso, sending two flying toward Alucard’s arms as he advanced. It was with some difficulty that Alucard avoided them; he wasn’t accustomed to doing so, enjoying the mockery of allowing strikes before demonstrating to his opponent how futile their efforts were, but he couldn’t do that with Anderson’s consecrated blades. They weakened him, and the shots Anderson took were often so precise, so damaging that he could be subdued in minutes. As enjoyable as experiencing defeat for the first time in a century had been, he would rather not be trounced so fast and so thoroughly again.

More bayonets came and he shot them down one after the other, managing to thin them down enough to side-step out of the way of any that remained. He retaliated with bullets directed at Anderson’s shoulder and head, sending the man skidding back briefly before watching him spring back up within a scant few seconds. A ‘scant few seconds’ was enough for Alucard to close the space between them, fortunately. The moment Anderson was back on his feet, he slammed bullets into his gut, popping off as many as the magazine had capacity for, and caught him by his cross to ensure he wouldn’t go flying out of range. The cross itself was consecrated, he found, and it faintly burned his fingers, but the way Anderson’s face contorted was satisfying enough that he paid it little mind.

Blood bubbled up over Anderson’s bottom lip and he spat it off to the side before slamming a bayonet into Alucard’s clavicle, right through the bone and into his thoracic spine, prompting him to jerk hard enough for his next bullet to go off course, hitting the wall instead. Anderson’s other bayonet swung toward his arm, clearly intending to deprive him of Casull- and he threw Anderson hard into the wall to jostle his aim, the bayonet burying itself uselessly in a shoulder instead.

He had to act fast to prevent Anderson from launching another attack. He tossed his Casull back into his red duster, his hands curling around the mans wrists and pinning them just above his head, nails dragging thin pink lines into the prominent strain of his tendons. One of those strong legs came up to try to shove him off, but Alucard put and end to that by sliding one of his legs between Anderson’s, pressing the man firmly into the wall with his hips. A position that startled Anderson into a brief moment of silence.

A sudden stirring against Alucard's thigh prompted him to cock his eyebrows at Anderson. How unexpected. How _delightful_.

“You like being pinned against walls by vampires, priest?” He lowered his eyelids, looking at Anderson's rapidly warming face through his eyelashes. He was radiating a wonderful heat, and his words seemed to be spurring on Anderson’s arousal. “Or is it just me?” Anderson shuddered against him and he exhaled a needless breath against Anderson's lips. “Does the idea of a beast that belongs in the bowels of hell defrocking you excite you, Alexander Anderson?”

A faint, choking sound was all his answer, and then Anderson shoved back against him, seeking to throw him off- and eventually succeeding in that. A bayonet had been plunged into one of his eye sockets by the time Alucard steadied his feet.

Sullying the priest- it’d certainly crossed his mind. He did so like sullying pious things, and even better, Anderson just so happened to be one of the most attractive men he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d always had a thing for blonds, and ones brimming with strength? Endlessly appealing. Integra, Anderson, and his sweet, long departed Lucy- he most certainly had a type.

He took stumbling steps back, curling his fingers around the handle of the bayonet and yanking it out with a grunt. It didn’t take more than a second or two for his eye to recover. Within those few seconds, he saw Anderson in a haze of red, hunched over and shoulders a straight line, and he knew the heave of his chest had nothing to do with exhaustion. The man had far too much stamina to find their little brawl tiring.

(He’d love to find out the depths of that stamina).

“Foul creature,” Anderson spat, but the red-tipped ears and the bulge of his trousers belied his words. “Hold your tongue before I deprive you of it!”

“I could think of a few enjoyable ways you could hold it for me,” he said smoothly, licking his lips in a slow, sultry fashion, displaying its queer length and tapered end. To his delight, Anderson turned even redder.

“You- you depraved-“ He brought fresh bayonets into each hand, spluttering angrily, and he must’ve been shaken, because Alucard shot down the bayonets with relative ease.

What was the phrase- methinks the lady doth protest to much? That felt apt here. He didn’t hide the interest in his expression as he raked his gaze from Anderson’s face to his feet, lingering briefly on the evidence of his arousal.

“I don’t take many to bed these days, Father, but I’d make an exception for you, because nothing would please me more than holding you down and forcing you to accept the pace I set while I suck your cock.” Alucard heard the hitch in his breath and he pressed on, side-stepping out of range of the mans next attack. It lacked its usual strength, and Alucard felt a rush of satisfaction. He could bluster, and protest, and call Alucard every cliché he wanted, but the fact that he reciprocated interest was undeniable. He could smell it, see it, and he would easily be able to feel it were Anderson to permit him to touch. “You’re always so loud during battle,” he murmured, skating his fingers over Anderson’s nape as Anderson made to impale him on a bayonet. He succeeded in this goal, but it didn’t stop Alucard from talking. “I know you’re a screamer, and I would treasure every sound I drew from you.”

Now it was Anderson’s turn to pin him to a wall, striking it with such force that one of Anderson's bayonets slid through his chest and into the brick with all the ease of a knife into butter. Being immobilised wasn’t ideal, since it made it difficult to protect his vulnerable spots, but he made no attempt to part himself from Anderson. He didn’t want to.

“I can see it on you that you’re a virgin,” he murmured, his smile turning wry. “I’m willing to take my time, but I want to be your first in every conceivable way, and I won’t be satisfied until I have it all.” Anderson looked to be preparing for another attack. This time, one that was likely to be far more debilitating. Alucard curled his fingers over Anderson's clerical collar and tugged him close before he could, thwarting him with the slow slide of his tongue over Anderson’s lips.

He parted them. Slowly, tentatively, but he did, and Alucard immediately slid his tongue inside, running the tip of it over each incisor before tasting his hard palate, his hand curling at the nape of Anderson’s neck to hold him in place. But he didn’t have to, because the man was kissing him back. Sloppily, clearly inexperienced, but the fact he was kissing back at all was pleasurable enough on its own.

He wanted to wedge a thigh between Anderson’s legs again, grind down on his cock, but all good things come to an end, especially when priests are involved. Anderson threw himself backwards before they could progress beyond the kiss, looking at Alucard with alarm, his eyes wide and wild – and perhaps a touch desirous. Before Alucard could attempt another proposition, he disappeared in a flutter of scripture.

Alucard slumped against the wall with a bellowing laugh.

The chase was on.

When he returned to the Hellsing estate later that evening with nothing of substance to report beyond his encounter with Anderson, Integra cast him a penetrating look, her eyebrows narrowed, like she knew exactly what he’d been up to. The only response he offered was the playful curl of a lip.

* * *

It wasn’t often that he and Anderson encountered each other, but as vampire activity had picked up in Ireland, courtesy of an elder vampire locating a bounty of recruits in a misogynist group focused on exploiting women for sex, he would periodically be dispatched to take out small throngs of men who had the bright idea of trying to build themselves a harem of dutiful wives a la Dracula (an association Alucard loathed to make, but it was clear where their inspiration was from). If he was lucky, he’d arrive either before or amid Anderson being assigned to the same job; if he was unlucky, he’d miss the priest altogether, and he suspected Anderson was trying to avoid him by how hasty some of his work looked.

To his great displeasure, the priest didn’t try to engage him in battle anymore. Oh, he would fling a threat, maybe a dirty look or two, but he was quick to finish his work and flee the scene when Alucard arrived. It was nice to see him and appreciate the way he worked, watch his muscles shift beneath his clothes as dispatched any lingering vampires, but it wasn’t enough to satiate Alucard. When he wanted things, he wanted them terribly, intensely, wholly, and he wanted Anderson more than anything he’d wanted in decades. To be refused even the pleasure of a fight was frustrating, particularly as that was something they both enjoyed. Anderson was cutting off the nose to spite the face. Alucard knew every opponent before him had been paltry, and he knew the fights offered by their current quarry were boring at best and tedious at worst. There was no one else in the world who could give him as gratifying a fight as Alucard. They both knew it, and yet Anderson hadn’t so much as thrown a blade at him in weeks.

He did understand why, of course. There were few men quite as pious as Anderson, and their coupling would be an abomination to the church on multiple levels. It was well beyond simply two men being intimate. The church had the capacity to forgive that, provided one was truly repentant. But to lie with ones enemy? With a creature aligned with the devil? With a ‘foul creature’, a ‘freak’, an ‘unholy aberration’ - oh, he understood very well why Anderson was keeping his distance, though that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He was going to have to make some further overtures or they’d get nowhere.

During their next encounter - this time taking place within a suburban home that looked like the set of a horror movie once they were done dealing with the occupants - he sent a bullet into Anderson’s thigh before he could take his leave. He stuttered a few steps, hand flying out to catch the wall, and proceeded to fling a bayonet back with such force that Alucard nearly ended up on his ass when it slammed into his abdomen.

Alucard grinned from ear to ear. They’d barely begun to fight and he was already thrumming with exhilaration. He could see his own pleasure reflected on Anderson’s face, albeit with some accompanying reluctance.

“Taking pot shots now, vampire?” Anderson had eight bayonets wedged between each of his fingers within the blink of an eye. “If you’re that eager to contribute your body to the mess in here, I’ll oblige you.”

“I’d much rather contribute my body to a mess of a different nature,” Alucard said while sliding a palm suggestively over the curve of his chest. To his great pleasure, Anderson’s eyes followed the journey of his hand, even as he voiced a protest.

“Do you think you can just flirt your way into my bed like I’m some kind of strumpet? I am a priest- I have vows!”

“And what of ‘thou shall not kill’?” Alucard stepped closer, tugging the bayonet free of his gut and throwing it aside. “You’re already well beyond salvation, priest.”

Anderson scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to lower myself to submitting to you.”

“I never said anything about submitting,” said Alucard, running his tongue along his serrated teeth. “Is that what you have in mind, priest? Were my previous advances not hitting the mark for you? Do you want me to get you on your knees instead? Have me shove my cock down your throat? Or perhaps hold you in place while I give you orgasms enough that you can’t stand? Would you like me to take my pleasure so you don’t have to feel guilty about it? So you can pretend you don’t want it?”

Anderson opened and closed his mouth, emitting not a sound. A rare state for him.

Eventually, he made a sharp turn, and Alucard caught the way he curled his cassock closer to himself, hiding his lower body from sight. It just made what he was hiding all the more apparent to Alucard.

“I can accommodate you.” He’d played many roles in the bedroom over the years and aggressor was a familiar one. Though he did so love to serve, these days. The Queen had quite enjoyed his tendency to favour giving pleasure rather than receiving it. But he definitely wasn’t unenthused by the thought of Anderson on his knees, volunteering his mouth for Alucard’s use. A priest on his knees, serving him, his cross swaying back and forth between them as his throat struggled to accommodate Alucard’s girth- being the filthy heretic that he was, there was simply no way he wouldn’t enjoy that.

He took another step closer, and contrary to his expectations, Anderson didn’t immediately leave. That was promising. He was staring hard at a window, face red, feet twitching minutely toward the closest exit, but he didn’t leave.

“Have you been thinking about it?” He could tell by the wince that Anderson had, and the thought that Anderson had indulged in fantasies of him was a tantalising one. How many times had he performed penance for them, he wondered. “You don’t deny yourself a good fight, nor the pleasure of killing, so to deny yourself this is pointless. I could get you on your knees, I could use your mouth, I could hold you down and pleasure you until you’re empty, or you can continue wondering about it until one of us dies.”

He could see the thrum of Anderson’s pulse in his neck. His fingers were tight around each handle of his blades, knuckles straining against his gloves. His lips were pressed tight together. Finally, after several minutes of silence, he let out a low, frustrated sound and slid his weapons back into his sleeves, turning his back on Alucard.

“God wills you all to be holy. He wants you to keep away from sexual immorality, and each one of you to know how to control your body in a way that is holy and honourable, not giving way to selfish lust like the nations who do not acknowledge God.”

“First Thessalonians,” said Alucard calmly, undeterred by Anderson’s resistance. He hadn’t expected to persuade the priest within a single conversation. In any case, that he remained so faithful, so resolute, was a quality Alucard admired. Had he simply rolled over and given Alucard what he wanted, it would have been satisfying in many ways, but it would have come with some disappointment as well. While he wanted the man to engage him, to be willing, he did so enjoy the chase.

He returned to the Hellsing Manor assured that he would get what he wanted, eventually.

* * *

Subsequent encounters proceeded much like the last. He would tell the priest exactly what he wanted to hear and the priest would put up token resistance, then listen, and eventually leave with a bible passage on his lips. Little by little, the length of their encounters increased. Only by a few minutes at a time, but it was enough that by the six month point, he could keep the man in place for almost thirty minutes at a time. And oh, did he take advantage:

“You’re a pious man, Anderson; you’ve not so much as touched yourself, have you? Virgins are delightfully sensitive. I’d only need to brush my lips over your cock to get you to the edge, and I’d take you there again, until you were shaking and incoherent, until even your pleading was incomprehensible. The memory of that pleasure would plague you.”

“You’re familiar with being on your knees. The hard floor beneath you would be a trifle- you might even enjoy it, ruining what you associate with sore knees with kneeling for me. I would only need push you down, and you would go down for me, and I’d undo my trousers for you since you’re much too proud to do it yourself. Don’t try to deny it; I know you have pride, and it’s as much a sin as your lust. But you wouldn’t be too proud to let your jaw go slack when I pry your mouth open, nor remain still when I slide my cock over your tongue. You wouldn’t be too proud to choke on it, priest.”

“Your vows don’t allow full copulation. I can adapt to that. I’d bite you from your neck down, right down to your legs, and I’d pay particular attention to the insides of your thighs. They’re softer than the rest of you, I wager, and you’d really feel it if I dug my teeth in there. Then I’d wrap my hands around your throat and grind my cock between those thighs, and I’d finish all over your stomach, while you’re still red-faced and whimpering. And to finish you off, I’d dig my nails into your chest and draw blood, and I’d use that to stroke you to climax with. I can be creative, priest. I’ve had a long time to accumulate experience.”

It was amusing that Anderson remained easy to fluster even after several months of being told utter filth. How old was the man? Fifty? Sixty? Hellsing had had him on the documents for some decades and he was suggested to have been at work long before Hellsing caught wind of him, so he had to be somewhere in the middle age range. In all those years, he suspected the man hadn’t experienced intimacy in any capacity, which would explain why he was dealing with Alucard’s flirtations with all the ease of a teenager during their first foray into puberty. Alucard was looking forward to helping the priest learn.

He exercised patience, as difficult as it was. He took his time, building up temptation slowly and steadily. Push too hard and there was the potential for Anderson to flee, so he never went beyond what he knew the man could handle. He’d spent two decades locked in a basement, slipping in and out of consciousness, waiting for his master to return; he could handle waiting on this.

* * *

The plague of vampires crawling through Ireland was exterminated by the end of the seventh month, and the fact there were to be no further missions on contested land threw a wrench into Alucard’s plans. He’d gotten so accustomed to vampires cropping up every other week that it had slipped his mind that they were finite. Now Anderson was across the sea, well beyond his reach, and he couldn’t exactly ask Integra to lend him a jet (well, he could, but she would most surely say no. She wouldn’t facilitate a visit to one of their adversaries, particularly one who is known to be volatile). It wasn’t as though he had no personal freedoms, like he’d had under his previous masters, but he couldn’t simply do whatever he wished on a whim.

He wasn’t one to be kept from his conquests, provided he wasn’t being forcefully repelled, but he found it difficult to concoct a way to remain in contact with the priest.

Which made Integra’s announcement of a treaty discussion between Hellsing and Iscariot a very welcome, and very convenient surprise. There was no question that he would be guarding her throughout these discussions. Or rather, he would be on the premises while Integra menaced Iscariot with her mettle, and that promised a few hours alone with Iscariot’s own security. They were going to have to be very persuasive hours for this to go the way he wanted it to.

A week after the announcement, they were on a plane to a quiet, non-descript meeting hall on the outskirts of Rome, no doubt insisted upon by Integra, who had previously expressed a desire to remain as far from Vatican City as possible. Just as the museum had been, the place was vacant save for them. There weren’t even people milling about outside, as one might expect of a town hall.

The standard introductions proceeded with him hovering over his masters shoulder, watching keen-eyed as she greeted Maxwell. The priest was nowhere in sight. Probably somewhere out of the way, dutifully awaiting Maxwell’s call. The building was of a modest size, so he wouldn’t be difficult to track down.

Once dismissed by Integra, Alucard began his search, slipping first into an attached kitchen to check for Anderson, and then into a nearby waiting room. Both were empty. He proceeded further into the building, peeking his head into every door he passed, until finally he uncovered the man sitting quietly in an office with a book resting on his thighs. The book, naturally, concerned religion.

Anderson raised his head as Alucard entered the room, expression falling into a frown, but he neither got up, nor protested Alucard’s presence, which was promising. Instead he closed his book and set it aside, turning in his seat to face Alucard.

“What were your instructions?” he asked, hands hanging between his knees.

Alucard stepped closer, a smile curling his lips. “Do not attack without provocation. And yours, priest?”

“My leash is no looser,” said Anderson. “And will you heed those instructions?”

“I have no intention of compromising my masters efforts to organise improved treaty terms,” he said, idling closer to Anderson. The man rose once there was only a foots width between them. “And there’s much more interesting things to get up to, in any case. Care to guess what I’m referencing?”

To his delight, Anderson’s face coloured right up to the tips of his ears. Always a lovely sight on that olive skin, and better still was the fact he remained standing before Alucard despite his embarrassment. Clearly he hadn’t been the only one anticipating an eventful encounter. He wondered just what the man had been imagining. He would have to be thorough so to ensure he fulfilled every fantasy.

“That’s answer enough,” he murmured, voice practically a purr. “If this room isn’t quite enough for you, I’d tell me now, while you still have the ability of speech.”

“Arrogant.” Anderson set his jaw and glanced away, additional colour rising on his face. “This room is out of the way. It’ll suffice.”

“Did you choose it deliberately?”

Anderson didn’t respond, but his expression was telling enough.

Alucard closed the space between them, folding his hands over Anderson’s lapels and sliding his palms slowly down his broad chest, toward his waist. He was a powerfully built man. Even through his multitude of layers, Alucard could make out shape of well-defined pectorals and feel the dip of his abdominals. Though he wasn’t as active as he might have been as a younger man, he’d kept his body well in shape. Every inch of it conveyed power and Alucard found that profoundly appealing.

One of Anderson’s hands rose, slow and tentative, and he slid it across the line of Alucard’s jaw. Alucard leaned into the touch, his eyes flicking to Anderson’s inquisitively.

“Maxwell…” Anderson's tongue flicked out, wetting his bottom lip. “Mentioned that the Queen greeted you like this.”

Alucard raised an eyebrow. He could have teased the man, pointed out the implications of emulating a past lover, but he decided against it; he didn’t want Anderson to decide to stop. He found the gentle, considerate touch of his fingers too pleasant to risk it.

“You’re so…” Alucard's smile broadened, and it wasn’t at all mocking. Just appreciative. “_Innocent_. Despite all that I’ve told you, you’ve such innocent whims.” He’d always found that quality enticing. In all four of the women he’d pursued as a Count, that had been a shared feature. “Was the kiss I gave you your first, Anderson?”

Anderson’s thumb stroked over the curve of his jaw, grazing the lobe of an ear. “I- hadn’t had occasion, prior to that. I entered seminary school at fifteen, and I’d been signed on before then.” He cleared his throat. “This can’t be surprising. I’m a priest.”

“My observation stands.” Because he’d met many a sexually active priest. Sexual immorality was an epidemic among the clergymen, in fact. Something to bring up later, though, when he wasn’t trying to bed someone who would undoubtedly cease their activities to start an argument.

“Fine.” Anderson’s throat visibly bobbed as Alucard’s nimble fingers began to pop his buttons. “If you want it clearly stated: I’m not familiar with any of this. The only reference I have are books, and those were… ones sanctioned by my faith.”

Alucard let out a little, ringing laugh. How cute. He expected few people had ever seen this side of Paladin Alexander Anderson.

“I’m experienced enough for the both of us.” Five hundred and twenty three years of accumulated experience, in fact. His trysts as a Count had been particularly wild. “Back up,” he instructed, sliding his hand down the slope of Anderson’s chest to grip at his hips, pressing him backward, toward the desk. His shadows made quick work of everything on it, sweeping it to the floor. Anderson’s hand dropped away from his face to grip his shoulder instead. “I’m going to make you shake, priest.”

“Arrogant,” Anderson said again, weaker this time, his arm stretching back to catch on the desk as Alucard guided him into sprawling across it. Alucard looked him up and down, approving, covetous, and tore open the rest of the cassock so he could reach for his trousers. A few buttons went flying and Anderson let out an indignant yelp.

“You’ll want to keep the coat closed when you leave here,” said Alucard wryly, casting Anderson a grin.

“Arrogant and incorrigible,” Anderson muttered, but he lifted his hips as Alucard pulled his belt free all the same.

Alucard threw the belt aside and began to unzip and unbutton Anderson’s trousers, watching Anderson through his lashes all the while. The man was taking it as well as could be expected of a priest about to commit an obscenity with his nemesis, all red and tense and curling his fingers hard into Alucard’s shoulder. That tension wouldn’t last. Alucard would make sure of that.

The moment he was able to, he reached past the waistband of Anderson’s underwear and curled his fingers around Anderson’s cock, listening with relish as the mans breath caught in his throat. It was appropriately sized for a man of his stature. Large, that is. Well beyond average. Alucard was by no means picky when it came to the size of his partners; he could appreciate all sorts, but he had to admire that Anderson ran big in all aspects of life. Deep-throating a cock of this size was going to be a new experience for the both of them.

He ran his tongue slowly over the underside and watched as Anderson dropped back, head thumping against the desk. So sensitive. He wasn’t going to last long, but that just meant Alucard would have to wring multiple orgasms out of him. He applied his tongue a little harder and slid his fingers smoothly up from the base, spreading the wet left by his mouth. Anderson made a series of small, breathy sounds and dropped both of his hands to the desk, curling his fingers into the wood hard enough to leave crevices. Someone was going to see them later and wonder as to their origin. The thought made Alucard laugh.

“Your vows are a tragedy, priest,” he murmured, lips grazing over the smooth head of Anderson’s cock. Slight though the contact was, it was still enough to make Anderson shudder. “You deprive the world by keeping to them.”

“Don’t mention my vows,” Anderson muttered, voice breathy. “You’re going to make me regret this more than I already do.”

“So you’re pretending that isn’t part of the appeal, are you?”

“You’re a bastard,” Anderson said with a huff.

Alucard laughed, letting his tongue descend to Anderson’s frenulum and swiping it slowly over the ridged flesh. Anderson’s response was instantaneous: he jolted and arched his back off the desk, eyes fluttering shut, a strangled cry leaving his throat. That display was enough to have Alucard swelling in his trousers. He might’ve been a vampire, deprived of blood flow, but he still responded to arousal as any other man would.

Once Anderson had thudded back to the desk, he did it again just to watch him arch up a second time. What a delight this man was, so responsive. Already red-faced and shaking and they’d only just begun. He wondered what he would be like if Alucard was ever able to fuck him- an incoherent, screaming mess, probably, and Alucard was looking forward to the day Anderson finally permitted him that. But he wouldn’t try for intercourse today. It’d already been established that Anderson too valued his vows to go that far. He was satisfied with having the opportunity to work him over, give him orgasm after orgasm without providing time for him to wind down. He was sure Anderson had stamina enough for such an activity. It would leave him nice and pliant when he wanted to escalate things.

He stroked Anderson from tip to base, sliding his tongue around the girth of him and periodically flicking it over Anderson’s most sensitive point. The length of his tongue enabled him to pleasure more effectively than most people, and judging by Anderson’s positive reactions to the attention - moans and writhing and the like - it was a quality he appreciated.

Alucard had been with enough people to be able to judge when Anderson was nearing his end. He pressed the flat of his tongue hard against Anderson's frenulum and dragged it up and down over the sensitive ridge of flesh. It had Anderson spilling into his mouth within seconds, a ragged cry flying from him and one of his arms folding over his face in a futile attempt to muffle it. It was a delectable sight, and the way his thighs quivered and a flush of red dragged itself down his neck was equally so. Alucard swallowed Anderson’s seed with relish, licking away any that remained pearled at the tip and quickly resuming his work. He re-applied his tongue to that sensitive ridge, fingers working around Anderson’s arousal, occasionally delving down to gently stimulate his balls, and Anderson let out something that sounded suspiciously like an overwrought sob when Alucard successfully built him up to orgasm again. It’d barely taken more than a few minutes this time. There hadn't been any refractory period to speak of, though Alucard suspected by his third, maybe forth orgasm that would change.

Now that Anderson was relaxed, he decided to get adventurous with his hands, gliding a palm over Anderson’s exposed navel and beneath his clergy jacket, working over the firm pecs hidden beneath it. The man was built like a brick shithouse, a great contrast to Alucard’s lither form. It just made it all the more satisfying that he had such a marvel of a creature writhing beneath him. No one else would have this. Just Alucard. His alone, and it appealed greatly to his selfish nature. That was one perk to Anderson being a priest: he didn’t have to worry about anyone else trying to claim what was his.

He curled his fingers and grazed his nails down the expanse of Anderson’s stomach, leaving thin pink lines that faded before he could get a good look at them. He created more to appease his desire to see Anderson marked and sucked Anderson’s cock into his mouth at the same time, deep into his throat, to give Anderson a pleasant contrast. It was effective enough that Anderson shuddered and whimpered, hips canting to reach further into the warm squeeze of Alucard’s throat. Alucard was happy to oblige his silent demand: he was perfectly capable of deep-throating a man of Anderson’s size, being what he was. Taking him in right down to the hilt was effortless, and so was humming to create pleasant little tremors as he bobbed up and down. Anderson made more sounds then, and oh, if he’d had the presence of mind to listen to himself he probably would have thought them obscene.

He quickly reached his third, and then forth orgasm in this way, the continuous stimulation wrecking havoc on his composure. There was a flush on Anderson’s chest; Alucard could feel it with his fingers if he reached far enough, and that warmth crawled up Anderson’s neck and over the rise of his cheekbones, to the very tip of his ears. His bright green eyes were glassy and vague, eyelids low enough to leave his enlarged pupils barely visible beneath his lashes. He was shaking continuously now, his hair a mess from sweat and involuntary movement. He was a sight to behold, but Alucard knew he could push the priest even further. The man could take it. If he could go toe to toe with Alucard in battle, he could certainly survive an evening of sex with Alucard.

While letting Anderson's cock fall free of his lips, Alucard worked to get his own arousal out. A rather easy task since the clothing he wore was entirely forged from his own being. He then slid Anderson’s trousers off the mans slack legs and tossed them aside, doing the same to Anderson’s underwear, which finally broke through Anderson’s stupor.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice faint from exhaustion.

“Nothing that you haven’t agreed to,” he assured the man. He finished getting his own underwear out of the way, letting his rigid cock rise into the air. There was no set size for it. It could be any size he wished, courtesy of his body being a malleable container. It was large, at current; larger even than Anderson’s cock, because it would need to be to get the most out of what they were about to do. “I mentioned something about getting off between your thighs, didn’t I? And I think I’ve earned a little reciprocation.” He leaned down, gliding his tongue over the warm shell of Anderson’s ear. “Will you let me turn you over?” he murmured. The shiver Anderson gave was encouraging. “I can give you a taste of what being fucked by me would be like. Will you let me hold you down by the nape and finish between your legs?”

“Just do it,” Anderson hissed with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Good boy,” Alucard said, and the way Anderson swallowed and looked away - so clearly aroused by his praise - was thrilling.

Guiding Anderson onto his stomach was met with some resistance, but only token. Something to sooth Anderson’s pride before he was bent at the waist for his nemesis. Alucard smoothed a hand down Anderson’s back, between his shoulder blades, before catching him by the hips and pulling him back until there was enough space between them and the desk for him to comfortably thrust. He slid his cock over the soft, pink furl of Anderson’s entrance first, just to tease, then positioned it between Anderson’s thighs and curled over his back. The length of his cock enabled him to coil a hand around both their cocks as he began a rocking motion.

As promised, his free hand settled over Anderson’s nape, pressing him firm into the wood. His thrusts were slow and measured at first, searching for the best rhythm and grip, then began to speed up once he was sure he’d found something they would both enjoy. The pleasure was quick to coalesce out of sheer attraction for his nemesis, but he didn’t let that prevent him from aligning his mouth with Anderson’s ear and murmuring into it.

“You look good like this, priest. On your stomach, hands flat on the table, shivering and whining while I take my pleasure. We’re both dogs for our respective organisations, Anderson, but no one taught you to be that way; it’s just what you like, isn’t it.” It seemed appropriate of a priest, who dedicate their lives to serving and being guided by a higher power. He heeled voluntarily, happily, wanting for nothing else but to be useful to his cause. “What would Iscariot think if they knew their Regenerator wanted to be a vampires bitch, and the garbage man of the Hellsing organisation to boot.”

Anderson didn’t say anything, merely gasped out a breath and fisted his hands. He’d managed to get hard again despite being repeatedly pushed over the edge. Wherever that Regenerator stamina ended, Alucard was going to find it.

He dragged the point of his teeth over Anderson's ear, down toward the jut of his jaw, tongue snaking beneath it to press against his pulse point. It raced under his ministrations and Alucard could hear the accompanying thud of his heart, so loud it would have caught any vampires attention. He was tempted to sink his teeth into the warm stretch of Anderson’s neck. It would have been easy, in their current position, but he didn’t expect the priest would appreciate that no matter how wrung out he happened to be. There was enough impropriety in what they were doing without adding a vampire bite to it. He instead contented himself with tugging Anderson’s collar down with his teeth and teasing his fangs over the bobs of his spine.

“You’re close,” he murmured. He quickened his strokes, sending Anderson hurtling faster toward completion. “Come for me again. We’re going to do this until you can’t anymore. You’ll be feeling the satisfaction of this for the next week, and so will I.” He didn’t need to breathe, but he still panted against Anderson’s skin. “Come on, Alexander. Come for me. Come for me.”

By now Anderson’s throat must have been getting dry from all the noise he was making, but he still parted his lips, still shouted to the heavens as he was wracked with yet another orgasm. Alucard caught the seed in his palm and used it to further slicken them both, moaning faintly between Anderson’s shoulders as he sought his own finish with punishing snaps of his hips. Someone might have overheard them, by now, but Alucard hadn’t enough capacity for shame to care, and Anderson hadn’t the presence of mind to recognise how loud he was being.

When he finished, it was with a low, predacious growl and a full-body shudder, his teeth closing over the rise of Anderson’s spine and leaving deep indents in the flesh. Being bitten drew a little whine from Anderson and he pressed up into Alucard’s mouth, encouraging another. A far cry from the annoyance Alucard would have expected. He lathed his tongue over Anderson’s skin to clean away any lingering blood, then dug his teeth in again and allowed the pleasurable side of his bite to take hold. The effect was instantaneous: another shout ripped from Anderson’s throat and he filled Alucard’s hand once again, this time a smattering of come reaching his abdominals, sipping between the crevices of his muscles before dripping slowly down. They were going to need some tissues after this.

Alucard slowly dislodged his teeth to swipe his tongue over the rapidly-healing wounds. “Your sixth,” he said, faintly amused. “Do you think you can reach ten?”

It turned out, after an hour of working him over with the application of his teeth and tongue and hand, with his hips continuously snapping against Anderson’s thighs, sending him skating over the desk, that he could go beyond ten. Twelve, and then Anderson was slumped against the desk, panting and thoroughly dishevelled, his cock soft between his legs and his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Alucard could have continued despite having come multiple times himself, but he withdrew once it became apparent Anderson had reached his limit - at least for the time being; perhaps he could get it up again after some rest? Something to look into at a later date.

He released the nape of Anderson’s neck and pressed a kiss to the soft hairs there, then retrieved a carton of tissues from the floor. Anderson made no attempt to move while he cleaned them both, scrunching up the sullied tissues and tossing them into a nearby bin. He remained sprawled across the desk, eyes fluttering open and shut, exhaustion visible on every inch of him. For a man who hadn’t so much as kissed prior to meeting Alucard, he’d taken this whole experience well.

“You still with me, priest?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically gentle. Or would be from Anderson’s perspective, anyway.

“Shut up.” Anderson groaned and rolled onto his back, grimacing as he surveyed the mess on his stomach. Alucard handed him the tissue box. “Should have warned me it’d be this messy.”

“You make such charming post-sex conversation.” Alucard cleaned off his own cock and had his underwear and trousers materialise over it. He couldn’t be bothered manually dressing. “Twelve times. You should be proud.”

“Twelve?” Anderson slowly rose onto his elbows to reach a handful of tissues between his legs. “I wasn’t counting.”

“Twelve,” said Alucard again, approvingly.

Anderson threw his tissues into the bin, wiping his other hand over his face and up into his hair. He was still pink all over. A lovely sight, made even lovelier by his half-lidded eyes and languid pose. Once Anderson was passably clean, Alucard plucked his clothes off the floor and handed them to him, letting him pull his trousers and underwear on himself before stepping in to help with the belt. He just wanted the proximity, in truth. It wasn’t often Alucard got to partake in intimacy. He did spend most of his time in a dank basement.

“I could have done that myself,” Anderson murmured, but he didn’t resist as Alucard did up his buckle and neatened his clothes. Alucard stole a quick kiss before he drew away, and thankfully, Anderson didn’t seem to mind, kissing back just as chastely.

“There will be future treaty discussions,” said Alucard idly. “These things are never achieved in one.”

“You’re assuming there will be a next time,” said Anderson.

“You would refuse me after that?” asked Alucard, cocking an eyebrow. “Did I not give you everything you desired? Make you shake, just as I promised?”

Anderson opened his mouth, then closed it again. He slowly pushed himself off the desk and adjusted his clothes, and there was a lull of silence before he spoke again. But Alucard was patient. He didn’t mind waiting for the priest to recover his thoughts after their extended foray into ejaculation.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Alucard smiled, wide and triumphant. “If you insist, but you really do protest too much, priest.”

Giving a huff, Anderson retrieved the items Alucard had swept to the floor and placed them back on the desk. “You should get back to your master.”

“No pillowtalk?” asked Alucard playfully.

Anderson snorted. “There’s no pillows here, as far as I can see.”

“Maybe next time, then.” It was without a hair out of place that Alucard headed for the door. His abilities enabled him to remain immaculate if he so wished it. “I’ll go for fifteen, next time.”

A moments hesitation, then Anderson said, “I look forward to it, vampire.”

Before Alucard could respond, the door had been slammed shut behind him, and that display of chutzpah had him laughing boisterously as he journeyed back to Integra.


End file.
